Still Searching
by never-wake-up
Summary: Alone and broken Breaga, a Druid, finds herself on the streets of Camelot struggling to hang on. She is being pursued, for she alone holds the spell that can save Odin's son and sole heir. After being taken in by Merlin, Breaga trusts no one, but she begins to fall for Arthur, the only one that makes her feel safe, and faces a tough decision. Please review, suggestions welcome
1. Prologue

"It is time," the words, barely audible, passed through the cracked lips of the weathered, graying man. He lay on his back upon a bedroll, carefully placed within his tent. The only source of light in the linen structure was that of the moon and the dozens of candles the circle mourners held outside, gathered in front of tent. His daughter kneeled at his side, clutching his hand in hers and pressing it to her cheek. "No, father, don't, you are not dying, not yet." She spoke, hushed but forceful.

"I have lived along and fruitful life. I have healed many, failing none but myself, at this moment. The time has come for you to take my place. I will pass on to you the spell that every Druid leader before you has processed." His breathing was labored now, and his eyes began to glass over. Tears were flowing freely down the girl's cheeks and he wanted nothing more but to wipe them away like he had so many times before, but he had not the strength to do so. Too distraught to protest, she acquiesced, placing a kiss in the palm of her father's hand. Using the last ounces of his strength, the dying man raised his hand upward and uttered weakly, the sacred incantation. "Só leigheas na créachtaí agus na sláinte ar ais!" At that moment, his breathe hitched and an illuminated orb appeared and travelled from him to the pale hands of this daughter. Overcome by the appearance of light beaming from her fingertips, she hadn't noticed that her father's body had gone limp, his mouth slightly a gape.

"Father?" she asked sadly, "Father, wake up." Her pleads went unanswered. "No!" she howled, "No! No No!" The painful sobs carried in the wind, filling the cool night with sadness. Her wails confirmed the mourners' thought, Algain, King of the Druids, was dead. And his Daughter Breaga Spelloyal, was now in charge.


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you to CVEmily, my first ever follower. Please leave feedback and any suggestions you may have for the story or my writing in general. Thank you for reading. I try to proof read various times, so I apologise if there are any errors. **

The brisk morning chill was cause for Breaga to stir. Everything was numb. It was as if the light in her world had been extinguished. She hadn't moved from her place at her father's side and had fallen asleep over his now cold body. None of the people had the heart to come in and remove the body until Breaga had had her time to mourn. As she began to fully awake it began to dawn on her that she was now in charge and had duties to fulfill, duties that she couldn't imagine tackling without her father.

Breaga remained laying protectively over her father, losing any sense of time. She hardly stirred, causing the people some amount of concern. Fully conscious, her gaze was fixed on Aglain's ghastly countenance, mind devoid of any thoughts. She easily could have remained in that state for ten lifetimes if it weren't for the noise the jolted her back into reality. A shrill horn sliced through the morning air. Breaga bolted upward, knowing very well what this meant; an attack.

She was on her feet almost instantly, despite the stiffness in her joints. Making her way to the entrance of the tent, she drew back the curtains and took in the scene before her. Women and their children were scrambling to return into their tents, the men procured anything that could be used for defense, pitchforks, axes, knives, and spare furniture to act as a barricade. And then she saw their doom; horse-mounted, armor-clad, red-caped soldiers had surrounded their camp. For mere moments, time seemed to stand still, and it seemed as if in slow motion when the leader of the attacking force, raised and lowered his hand as signal to begin the assault.

Time caught up with her and Breaga watched has the men stormed in to the heart of the settlement, lowering their torches to make contact with the linen structures that made up the Druid colony. Flames seemed to erupt from every direction and the cries of the wounded filled the air. Havoc was being wreaked upon Breaga's people and all she could do was stand there and watch. One of her own men suddenly was flung at her feet, blood dripping down from the corner his mouth. Her eyes travelled to his stomach, where a sword had buried itself up to the hilt. The man's frightened gaze met hers, and his lip quivered. His hands gripped at the sword that pierced him and in one swift motion, he removed it with an agonizing scream. A twisted smile crossed his lips and he handed the crimson stained weapon to Breaga, an action that filled her with anger. Anger that he father was gone, anger that they, the peaceful Druids, were being attacked. She took the sword and studied it in her hands; gripping it firmly; knowing full well what she must do, fight for and with her people. She returned her attention back to the man at her feet, hoping that she might be able to save him, but he had gone, the traces of a smile still apparent. The tent behind her, containing her father's body burst into flames. Breaga gasped, trying to think of a way to retrieve it, but she mentally kicked herself for thinking so selfishly and not of her people. Then she began to run, sprinting into the thick of the losing battle, a thousand questions spinning in her mind. Why were they being attacked and who had given away their location? Breaga swung the sword viciously and chopped down a man from his mount and noticed a Druid fighter fending of three attackers. She rushed to his side immediately striking one of the aggressors, and knocking them unconscious. As she used her sword to parry an oncoming blow, she questioned her attacker who, unlike the rest of the army, was not wearing a red cape, "Why are you here?" she said fiercely, eliciting a grin.

"We're here to find the one that possesses the sacred healing spell," he spat confidently, in a Scottish brogue, "And if you can hand them over, we'd be glad to call off the attack." Breaga almost dropped her sword. What? All this carnage could cease if she turned her self in? So many lives could be saved and the settlement might be salvageable as well. The Druid man she had assisted looked at her hopefully, and perhaps even expectantly. And without second thought, Breaga let the words escape her mouth.

" I have the spell." The attackers face twisted and he released a dark chuckle, his raggedy brown amour adding to his filthy appearance.

"Well little lady, it seems you will be coming with us." The man's meaty hands sheathed his sword and grabbed her tiny wrists, holding them together. He let out a might roar and the fighting ceased, the red-cloaked men gathering behind him. They didn't' seem to belong with this man; they seemed proper and polished and formally trained, nothing like this crude and filthy mutt.

A thick rope was tied around her wrists and secured to the grungy man's saddle. The squadron of soldiers marched through what remained of the Druid encampment, dragging Breaga, now a prisoner, with them. The surviving Druids gather to watch the procession, tears and ash snd blood even streaking their faces. One called out to Breaga telling her to stay strong. She to, allowed tears to flow, not for herself but for her peoples' loses. She was still fixed upon them when the rope gave a great jerk and she was tugged forward, stumbling and falling into the dirt. As she regained her footing, she once again heard that familiar chuckling.

"Aye little lady, I'm Odin. Nice to meet you."

It had been what felt like the better half of four hours. Breaga's wrists where the rope pulled were on fire and her thirst was unquenchable. The scorching sun shone down through the canopy of trees, which offered little protection. Sweat dripped into her eyes and she was beginning to feel rather dizzy, so her stumbling became worse. After what seemed like an eternity, they halted, the soldiers dismounting and scattering about looking for shade. Odin walked around to the back of the horse where Breaga was secured holding a small pouch filled with water.

"Hey, how's the little lady doing now, eh?" his tone was condescending and when his hand made contact with her shoulder, it made her skin crawl. "Perhaps she'd like a bit of water?" he pressed. Extending his arm towards her, Odin forced the pouch in her face, and she looked away. "But you must be thirsty, girl" he said sarcastically. Breaga turned her head sharply, gathered as much saliva as she had left, and spit in his face. Odin was taken aback. "HOW DARE YOU!" he bellowed, raising his closed fist and striking Breaga with all his strength. She was knocked to the ground; the whole left side of her face numb. Odin marched off, dropping the water pouch inches out of Breaga's reach. After a few moments, she composed herself and returned to her feet, unable to be rid of her doubled vision. She raised her bound wrists to wipe her nose and brought them back down, surprised to discover a smear of blood. Her eye was undoubtedly swelling shut and her head throbbed making the next jerk of the rope even more unbearable. Only this time something strange happened, as the rope was jerked, she did not go along with it, but the rope snapped and she knew immediately what to do.

She took off running into the to thick of trees, wrists still bond, and unsteady. Breaga did not know how much of a head start she had, if one at all. With her vision and balance compromised, she wacked into various trees and tripped over countless roots. Behind her she could begin to hear the fainted sound of hoof beats and she pressed on harder praying that she could find a place to hide knowing she couldn't out run the horses. Ahead, the ground seemed to halt, dropping off into a rather steep cliff. Breaga knew she had no choice but to jump it and did so without any hesitation. When her body made impact with the dirt at the bottom of the cliff, she was relatively unscathed, except for a pretty nasty gash on her right fore arm. She sat up and pressed her back to the cliff, squeezing her eyes shut and catching her breath, fighting the pain in her arm and eye. When she reopened her eyes, she could make out a large castle not to far in the distance; Camelot.


	3. Chapter 2

With eyes focused on Camelot on the horizon, Breaga began to formulate a temporary plan. She could hide out in Camelot until the search for her died down. Yes! That would be perfect. She began adjusting the tattered green cloak around her shoulders when the crackling of leaves somewhere above caused her to freeze. It must be Odin and the other men looking for her. Listening carefully she could make out bits and pieces of what they were saying, "…filthy girl…double the patrol and…make sure…I'll make sure when I'm done with her…" He went on to list various stomach-churning forms of tortuous acts and Breaga exhaled, blocking it out. So, she had no choice but to not be found.

After waiting for Odin to disappear back into the woods, Breaga began the moderate journey to Camelot. The sky was now overcast with dark grey clouds and the temperature had dropped significantly. When a light drizzle of rain began to fall, she was grateful for her hooded cloak, a gift from her father. A wave of sadness ripped through Breaga, stopping her in her tracks. She clenched her eyes shut and, taking a few deep breathes, waited for the hurting to cease before resuming her quick pace in the direction of Uther's kingdom. Her swollen eye throbbed with each step and her wounded arm hadn't stopped bleeding so Breaga was forced to tear a strip of cloth from her cloak and wrap it tightly over the wound. Several more minutes of walking, rain now falling steadily, and she found herself passing through the northern gates of Camelot, completely exhausted. What a magnificent place, she thought. Never had Breaga seen such a sprawling city. On occasion when she was a little girl her father would take her with him when he ventured to Cenrid's kingdom, but it was no comparison to Camelot. She walked down what appeared to be the main road lined with carts selling all types of goods; cloth, vegetables, iron works, spices, and bread. Wow, did the bread smell good. Breaga's stomach rumbled and she realized she hadn't eaten in two days and she had reached the first flaw in her plan; she had come to Camelot penniless. Perhaps to could beg for a crust of bread, she wasn't proud.

Breaga pensively approached the cart and licked her lips nervously, "Excuse me sir," she addressed the vendor, "I have no money but I am very hungry. Could you spare a crust of bread?" His angry look told her all she needed to know but some desperate part of her pressed on, "Please sir, I really-" The man snapped yelling at Breaga viciously.

"Get gone you beggar! I work hard for my money, be gone!" She recoiled, expecting to receive a blow, so accustom to Odin's poor treatment. The man had returned his attention to a pouch of coins he had been counting previous to Breaga's inquiry, leaving her, heart pumping, still staring wide-eyed at the bread. A passerby, a young woman with flawless caramel coloured skin, seemed to take notice of the scene that had just unfolded. She approached Breaga, causing her to start. The woman's caring and concerned face put Breaga at ease but she was still cautious.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, looking from Breaga to the vendor then back.

"Yes uh, everything is fine. I was just trying to get a bit of bread but uh…" Breaga trailed off, a little embarrassed about her impoverished state. But this seemed to click in the woman's mind and she immediately motioned for the man.

"Sir, I'd like to buy a loaf of bread please." she said confidently, handing him a coin. He nodded and turned to grab a loaf. "Oh and sir?" she started again, "The warmest one you've got." She gave Breaga a wink and extended her hand, "I'm Guinevere. But you can call me Gwen." Her smile was warm, and Breaga decided that she liked Gwen.

"Breaga" she said softly, causing Gwen's grin to widen.

"That is a lovely name. If you don't mind me asking, what happen to your face?" Gwen remarked, gesturing towards the red and purple lump that was once her eye. She handed the bread to the paler girl. Breaga had almost completely forgotten about her appearance. She was probably filthy and covered in cuts and bruises.

She shuffled awkwardly, "I, uh, was walking in the crowd and someone's elbow clipped me." She lied, but something told her Gwen didn't buy her story.

"Well, Breaga, it was lovely meeting you, I've got to be going now." Gwen said warmly and strolled off.

Breaga called after her, "Thank you!" and the other woman turned back and smiled. Breaga was taken back by the kindness this woman had just showed her and made a promise to pay it forward someday.

The rain had begun to lessen and Breaga had found a small spot between two houses in which she could settle. She sat down, hood still on, and began in on her bread. It was still warm and for a moment, an escape from the chill. The loaf was almost half way through when a shadow was cast over the seat girl. Breaga raised her had to see a scruffy man with a long scar marring his face. He flashed his rotting teeth and spoke.

"Doesn't that bread look nice? Want to share?" He grabbed for the bread, but Breaga bolted to her feet, clutching the bread to her. "It's nice to share!" yelled the man lunging for her. She yelped as he grabbed her injured arm and snatched at the bread again.

"Help! Help me!" Breaga called, hoping someone on the main road would hear her. She struggled to release her arm from his grip and began to kick at him. Thrusting her arm out of his grip, Breaga was flung backwards and onto the ground. She scrambled to her feet and began to run, tears streaking her face. She could have kept running if she hadn't run right into someone. Her petite frame was once more sent towards the ground, and she held her arms defensively in front of her face, afraid of what she must face.

"Are you alright?" said a male's voice. Hands made contact with Breaga's shoulder and back and lifted her back to her feet. She was still sobbing, face pointed to the ground. The man lifted her chin and made her meet his gaze, "What happen to you?" he said, genuinely concerned upon noticing her rough appearnce. Breaga, too shaken to answer, brought her hands to her lips, breathing rapidly. The man had light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He scanned Breaga's face and took notice of her arm, which had bled through her makeshift bandage, blood smear on her arm. He turned to a younger looking boy Breaga hadn't noticed before, with a small frame and deep black hair. The blonde said something to him in a low voice and he took a step towards Breaga, who instinctively winced.

"I'm not going to hurt you," said the dark haired boy, "I'm Merlin. That gash on your arm looks pretty bad. We're going to take you to the court physician, alright?" Breaga was shaking now, unsure if to trust them or not. Her eyes darted between the pair who was exchanging concerned looks. Panic set in and then everything went black.


	4. Chapter 3

**I apologise for the shorter chapter. Thank you to everyone who followed. I've re-uploaded this chapter because when I first posted it, I did so on an iPad and it was riddled with errors and not formatted. New chapter soon, I am sorry for the wait. Still waiting for my first review ;). And again, all suggestions for the story and my writing welcome.**

Breaga woke slowly, feeling the warm sun shining softly on her face. She was in a bed, two thick, wool blankets draped over her. The bed was in a small room with an adjoining door. A bedside table was to the right, topped with various vials and a bowl with a rag resting in its base. _Where was she?_ Breaga sat up and examined the room around her, calculating her next move. The door opened, startling her. Breaga had raised the blanket to her face, cowering with her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Woah! I didn't me to startle you, it's me, Merlin. Remember?" He was carrying a small tray lain with more vials and another bowl, this one filled with porridge. At this, she relaxed some, releasing the tension in her muscles and lowering the blanket back down. Breaga managed a weak smile, which told Merlin he could proceed. He walked around to the side of the bed and sat on its edge, placing the tray at the foot of the bed. "Well, your eye is looking a bit better," he said happily, examining the girl's face. Breaga instinctively reached to touch her eye and grimaced when she did. "Ah, I wouldn't touch it," Merlin warned, gently pulling her arm away from her face. Her memory of the prior days' events began to return, she then remembered her father. It felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Merlin must have noticed the change in her and was quick to bring up another topic, "How about your arm? Can I see it?" he looked into Breaga's frightened eyes and assured her he meant no harm, they were a fierce green. She apprehensively extended her arm, which had been bandaged in white linen strips, now blood stained. _That couldn't be good_, she thought.

She watched as Merlin's nimble fingers unwrapped her wound. The boy, noticing her watching, looked up and smiled. Once the wound was undressed, he took a moist cloth and dabbed it gently, careful to read Breaga's expression for any signs of discomfort. She gritted her teeth as he applied a salve and redressed the injury. "There," Merlin remarked, surveying his work, "all done." He turned to return the supplies to the tray when he heard in his mind a small, female voice, _Thank you_. Whipping around, he saw Breaga, unmoved, smiling slightly. "W-what?" Merlin asked, bewildered._ I said thank you_, the voice said again. Was it possible she was a Druid? "You're a Druid?" he stated, more than asked. The girl nodded, rolling up her other sleeve to reveal an intricate treskellion tattooed on her forearm.

"My-my village was attacked," she said quietly, voice as delicate as lace. Merlin sat back down, staring at Breaga intensely.

"It's alright, you can tell me." he pressed gently. Merlin placed his hand on her shoulder and she looked at him, tears threatening to spill over.

"My father was, dying," Breaga swallowed, speaking slowly, "and he passed on the sacred healing spell, to-to me, next morning Odin attacked, but the men with him, they, they didn't seem like his men, they wore red capes. They were looking for me, so I surrendered myself, but it was too late I was suppose to be in charge and everything,everything-" she began to sob, leaning into Merlin who embraced her.

"Shh..." he comforted, "Its alright." Merlin had never been great at comforting people, but he hoped he was helping just by being there. He spoke in her mind, _Hey, its alright. Can you tell me your name?_

She responded aloud, "Breaga." Now sitting up, she rubbed her eyes, again forgetting about the injured one. "Ah-" she whimpered. It was still extremely tender and her vision was slightly stinted. Merlin gave her comforting look.

"Still that sore, eh? I'll have Gaius look at it again. But here," he handed her a cool, moist cloth and she pressed it lightly to her eye. "If you're hungry, I've brought you some porridge." he said motioning to the bowl still resting at the foot of the bed. Hungry, she was. It happen been almost two full days since she had eaten something and the ravenous look in her eyes told Merlin it all.

Merlin rose, but as she did Breaga spoke, "Merlin, thank you, for everything. Really, I can't tell you how much this means." He smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but as he did the door open and none other than the Prince Arthur entered.


	5. Chapter 4

"Merlin! My boots need polishing and no one has mucked the stables today! You absolutely are the worst ser-" Arthur cut his own attack short upon noticing Breaga, propped up in bed, Merlin seated at the foot.

"Arthur," Merlin said, clasping his hands together, "this is Breaga. You know, the girl from yesterday, in the lower town." Arthur's eyed the bruised girl with faint recognition, her hair in a mess of knots and eye rimmed with a swirl of dark purples. And yet, there was something appealing about her.

Arthur approached the bed and extended a hand to Breaga, "I'm Arthur Pendragon." Breaga dropped her glance from his icy blue eyes to his out stretched hand, hesitant to return his gesture. He gave a warm smile and she acquiesced, placing her small hand in his larger one. In that one moment, she had never felt safer. Arthur was warm and smelled of leather. She let go first, afraid that if she didn't then, she never would. Arthur's gaze was fixed on Breaga's beaten face but fell to her arm, the surface of the white bandage was pricked with blood. Arthur's expression soured and he met her eyes again, "What happened to you?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

Breaga opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off when Merlin's voice rang out in her mind. _Don't mention you're a Druid! Don't say anything about magic.._. "My village was attacked." She said simply, trying not to think of her father's death shortly beforehand. Why couldn't she say she was a Druid? Breaga swallowed hard, hoping Arthur wouldn't press her for more details, knowing that he would. She was a great liar, but something inside her refused to lie the to the lean blonde perched on her bed.

"By who? When did this happen? Was anyone else hurt?" Arthur questioned frantically, hungry for some action.

Merlin nodded to Breaga and she forced a weak smile. She explain to Arthur all that had happened, starting with the death of her father. She omitted the bit about being a Druid and all information regarding the healing spell and being taken captive. Breaga found herself losing composure telling about the slaughter of the villagers.

"They just lay fallen, everywhere..." she said slowly. Arthur's hand rest on the small of her back, rubbing small circles. "If we were ever attacked it was my father who would save the day, always. But he..." she trailed off. Merlin stood in the corner of the room, his gaze meeting the floor. Arthur's eyes were still fixed on the broken figure next to him. "I should have saved them." Breaga said with a new intensity. "I should have done more. It's my fault that-"

Arthur grabbed her shoulders, causing her the flinch slightly, and leveled himself with her. "Breaga, listen to me. This is not your fault. Just tell me who it was that attacked you and I will do everything in my power to make sure they pay for what they have done." She had nothing to say in return, she just stared back at him with a feverish gaze. a strand of silky brown hair had fallen in her face and Arthur's nimble fingers swept it behind her ear, causing her to internally shiver.

"Odin." The words past feebly through her lips and she looked as if she might faint. He stood up, rising to his full height. Arthur was broad and lean, and Breaga couldn't help but notice how good he looked, sporting a rough, red tunic shirt and brown trousers.

"I'll need to know where your village was. Do you remember how far it was from Camelot?" Arthur asked.

Breaga shook her head sadly, "I'm sorry, I don't remember. I am not even sure how I managed to make it here". She gestured with her hands and returned them to her lap. She tried to read Arthur's stony expression but to no avail, he was like her, a master at hiding how he truly felt. A fire seemed to burn behind his eyes, mind clearly at work.

"I'm going to speak with my father." he finally stated, looking from the girl to Merlin, "I'll see if there's been any reports of attacks and I can use that information to locate your village."

"I want to go with you," Breaga said firmly, planting her feet on the ground and standing. A wave of nausea passed through her and she fought hard to hide it.

"What?" said Merlin and Arthur in unison. It was only now that Arthur seemed to realize how small she was. Breaga was petite, her shoulders were slight and she barely stood to Arthur's neck. She had light brown hair that grazed hr hips. Her most striking feature was her eyes, they seemed to glow a gentle green, like the color of sunlight pasing through the trees. He wanted nothing more to wrap her in his arms.

"I said, I want to go with you." _Don't you dare pass out_, she told herself, though the room was spinning.

"It will be extremely dangerous and you are in no shape to go out, let alone be put in a situation as dire as this may be." Arthur proclaimed motioning to her. Merlin stood wordlessly shifting on his feet, not wanting to take a side.

"Well, maybe by the time you go I'll be better. So don't you dare count me out yet." she said confidently.

"Maybe," Arthur said and when Breaga smiled he started up again, "But as long as you promise me you'll rest up until then. You need to heal"

"Will do." She smiled and crawled back into bed like an obedient.

"I'll come visit you soon, after I speak to my father" said Arthur, making his way to the door. "And Merlin, you idiot, don't let me catch you slacking off again. You've got two duties now. Not only do you work for me, you'd better take care of Breaga." And with that he left. Leaving Merlin with a sick expression on his face.

Breaga took notice and questioned him, "Merlin, what is it?"

"Arthur's father is the King of Camelot."


	6. Chapter 5

Breaga haunted Arthur's thoughts his entire walk to the throne room. The way her hair fell, long and flowing, to the way her small hand felt in his. To his surprise, when he remembered her flowering bruises and battered appearance, anger welled up inside his chest. _Who could harm such a lovely girl_, he thought. There was something about her that left him feeling uneasy, but he buried those feelings down inside himself. He had hardly met the girl, so why was he so hung up on her?

Finding himself in front of the closed throne room doors, Arthur took a deep, cleansing breath, shaking the thought of Breaga, small and warm, in his arms. When he opened the doors, he found Uther sitting alone in his throne, parchment and quill in hand.

He looked up upon hearing the door open, "Arthur, I thought you were working with the knights right now," he remarked, setting his document aside and standing.

"Small change of plans, father. I was wondering if you had heard reports of attacks on villages around the kingdom." Arthur said, trying to sound official.

Uther chuckled, "Always, my son. Why is it you ask?" He took a step closer to his son and studied him, suspicious of his motives.

"My servant and I discovered a girl in the lower town. She appeared to have been attacked and she told us that her village was destroyed, by uh," Arthur swallowed, hoping he could let the name pass his lips. Odin had been an ally of Camelot only recently, and he wasn't sure if his father would react kindly to his name coming up in such a situation. "We have reason to believe it was Odin, father."

Uther's face fell and darkened and he blinked hard. "I am sure that if Odin has attacked a village, he had solid reason to do so. Otherwise it would be in violation of our treaty."

"Reason to do so?" The words tasted sour in Arthur's mouth, "What reason could Odin have to kill an _entire_ village?"

Uther walked behind his throne and placed his hands on the back of the chair, holding on tightly, so his knuckles protruded from his leather gloves. "As you know, Odin and I signed a treaty, uniting our kingdoms. Recently Odin's son has been fatally injured and his only hope is… sorcery." The word hung heavy in the air and Uther's lips twisted as if he had ingested poison. "Unlike myself, Odin tolerates magic and enchantments, and has sought out the help of countless sorcerers. All have told him to seek out the Druids, for one of them possesses the power to save his son." The color seemed to have left Uther's face and he relaxed his hands.

Arthur looked puzzled, "I don't understand what this has to do with-"

"I agreed to supply men to help him find this, this _Druid,_ but in return he will aid me in eradicating magic in my kingdom." Uther's eyes were burning with a fiery intensity, staring into his son's confused ones.

"Father, I can assure you this girl is no Druid." Arthur said coolly, hoping it was true. What if Breaga is a Druid? He had no way of knowing, but now, for her sake, he would say she wasn't.

Something inside Uther seemed to snap and he wheeled around and faced Arthur, "You never know with their kind. They are evil and conniving and masters of trickery." His voice was calm but had an edge like a razor. "I want this girl detained."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," said Breaga, confused. Merlin was now pacing around the small room, running his hands through his hair. He walked to the side of the bed where Breaga was seated and placed his hands on her shoulders, just as Arthur had before.

"Uther hates magic. If he finds out you are a Druid, he will kill you." Merlin spoke, hushed and breathy. _Do not cry, _Breaga urge herself, _don't you dare cry. _Her eyes searched his face for something, sympathy, hope, anything.

"So," she began, voice cracking slightly, "What do I do?"

Merlin saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes and took a deep breath, "You need to get out of Camelot." There was a hint of pity in his voice, pity that Breaga did not want.

"You don't understand I have nowhere to go, I'm being hunted. Even here I'm not safe!" Breaga's composed front was crumbling quickly and she hastily brushed some renegade tears from her cheek. "Merlin please, you've helped me so much already." Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with both hands. Maybe he could help her, maybe. But he'd have to get Arthur on board. After all, Arthur had helped Mordred, the little Druid boy Morgana saved. And Merlin had seen the way Arthur looked at Breaga, so maybe there was hope.

"Breaga, listen to me. I am going to do everything I can to keep safe, but we need to tell Arthur the truth," he said seriously, darkness creeping into his tone. Arthur had to be told soon or else he might feel betrayed by Breaga and Merlin's lies. Breaga smiled and brought her hand to her mouth. Relieved, tears flowed freely now, and she flung herself at Merlin, who returned the hug. Even compared to him, she was small. He couldn't imagine her running through the woods, evading Odin and his men. The thought made him sick. Now, more than ever, he felt the need to do all he could to protect her.

He had done all he could to argue with his father, but Arthur could not stop him from sending two burly guards to the court physician's chambers. Arthur stormed out of the throne room and ran down the corridor, in search of the back staircase. If he could make it there before the guards, he could hide Breaga. Before he knew it, he was outside the door and, without knocking, flung himself inside, not stopping to greet Gaius and ran right into Merlin's room.

"Merlin! The guards are coming for Breaga, we need to hide her!" Arthur spat breathlessly. Breaga and Merlin just stared back at him, wide-eyed. "Don't just sit there come on!" He seized Breaga by her good wrist and mumbled something to Merlin. This action caused Breaga to panic, reminded of being Odin's prisoner. She tried to tug away but Arthur's grip was firm. "Breaga! Breaga!" Arthur shouted, "Look at me, hey, calm down, look at me. I will protect you, I won't let them take you." She managed to weakly nod and he whisked her into the corridor, leaving Merlin to cover for them. Arthur looked down at Breaga, who was shaking uncontrollably; he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He lifted his gaze from her, and straight at the two guards standing right in front of them.


End file.
